In Hell's Despair
by Theiry
Summary: A severly injured and unconcious Lee forces everybody to face certain truths, and what they do and do not have.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim to ownership of the Battlestar Galatica. Never have. Never will.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here goes, an actual story. As I've said before I've only just started watching BSG so there'll be mistakes, maybe even some pretty obvious ones. Spot 'em and tell me and I'll go back and correct. Also the prefaces to each chapter will be stanzas from a collection of Indian Love poetry and some of Sappho's work as well. Some of the Indian poems will be slightly edited to better suit the chapter. For full text email me and I'll send it to you. Also, if anyone knows where I can get any clips of the show for a video I'm making I'd be grateful.

**In Hell's Despair**

**By Theiry**

_Your lover sits_

_dejected._

_Your friends won't eat_

_their eyes are swollen from crying._

_There's no silly chatter _

_and you're a wreck._

_Stubborn girl,_

_isn't it time to quit sulking?_

**-Fragment of the Amarushataka**

**Chapter One**

Ignoring protocol and safety Starbuck leapt from her Viper, indifferent Callie's startled expression as she shot across the deck. She didn't see the chaos around her, didn't hear the alarms and the shouts of confused concern.

And she reached him before almost anyone else. Before Tyrol, before Helo and Athena, before his wife, who shouldn't have been there.

Almost before the medics who'd been prepped and waiting for his arrival.

As it was they'd barely secured him on the stretcher when she shoved someone out of her way to get closer to him, slipping her hand into his as she did. Blind to the havoc surrounding her, partially caused by her, she devoured the sight of him, cataloguing his injuries at a glance.

The left side of his face was a swollen, mottled purple, coved in the blood seeping freely from the gash just above that eye.

His breathing was shallow, harsh, labored.

The left side of his flight suit was soaked black with his blood.

Something inside of her broke at the sight, then, in typical fashion, hardened.

"Don't you dare think you can just give up on me now you suicidal son of a bitch!," She snapped, jerking her shoulder from the grasping hand trying to pull her away.

His eyes were closed and, save for his breathing, he was still. So Gods-damned still.

"Starbuck! We have to get him to the infirmary! Now!"

She heard the words, was beyond identifying the voice, and leaned in close enough that she could almost taste the blood matted in his hair., "You are going to be fine," she hissed into his ear," aren't you."

She didn't make it a question. Wasn't willing to risk a question which implied multiple answers when she wanted only one.

"Starbuck, damn it MOVE!"

She locked her fingers with his, squeezed. He would say it. She needed him to say it. Lee Adama never broke his word. ," Say it. You're going to be fine. _Say it_."

Hands came around her waist, ripping her away from him. Voices shouted at her from every side.

The Admiral.

Roslin.

Helo.

Dee.

"Say it! Damn it, say it!," she shrieked, clutching frantically to his hand, her grip slipping, as they hauled her back, "Apollo! Lee!"

His lips moved, almost imperceptibly, but she saw and head butted whoever was pulling her away, slamming her elbow into their solar-plexus as she slipped free of their grasp.

"..._fine_.," it passed his lips like a dying breath as she leaned into him, the slight nod that accompanied it hardly more discernable than that precious, fragile word.

"Damn right.," she declared, returning the slight squeeze of her hand, catching his gaze his through barely cracked eyelids.

This time she let them pull her away as they rushed him off, surrounded by a crowd of chattering half panicked medics who realized all to well the consequences of losing him.

Still, she shook of the constraining hands at her elbows, which turned out to belong to the Admiral himself, letting her gaze drift to his heavily damaged ship.

"Damn right.," she repeated, her eyes glinting in the overhead light.

&&&

"Will he come out of it?"

Bill Adama was an imposing man at the best of times and having to tell him his only suriving son might not wake up again was a unique position Cottle would never have wished to experience.

It was just too bad the Gods didn't care overmuch about his wishes.

"More than likely.," he stated, already knowing how the man would react to his words and sighing in anticipation. This was never easy, never had been and never would be, but he couldn't imagine it being much more difficult.

"More than likely.," Bill repeated, making it clear that this was not an acceptable answer.

"He has a seventy five percent chance of recovery, and there _are_ signs of improvement."

"Such as?"

"Certain visitors illicit an increase in brain activity. Yourself," Cottle continued, cutting him off even as he opened his mouth," Laura. Helo. Dee.," He hesitated there, wondering if there were anything resembling a tactful way to phrase what came next, doubting it would come as much of a shock to this man who seemed to miss nothing. Tactful or otherwise.," The greatest increase seems to be in response to Captain Thrace's presence."

"Kara.," The Admiral breathed, almost sighed as his gaze drifted to the floor.

No, there was no shock, only a kind of sad resignation; as if he'd expected this revelation and saw no hope in its tidings.

"She's been to see him?," There was no expectation in the question, no anticipation of comfort to be found in the answer.

Here at least was a thing he was almost, but not quiet because there was still the one who hadn't left the Major's side in three days, glad to impart. Something if not hoped for then unexpected. And he'd learned that sometimes the unexpected made all the difference.

"Religiously.," he stated, almost gratified by the surprise which lit the man's eyes. ," She's here every day, but she never stays long. Hasn't crossed the threshold though since Dee took up her vigil. But she'll look in, badger us until we let her see his file, as if she hasn't memorized the thing by now, harasses the nurses for updates, as if any wouldn't be in that file.

The surprise is plain, as is the slightly amused disapproval that colored his voice when he said, "You let her see his file?"

"Nothing confidential. Diagnosis. Treatment."

He nodded, his eyes going distant.

Then," She doesn't sit with him?"

"Not for the last three days. But she's here and he knows it. Responds to it.," Deliberately he stopped himself from saying anything more, letting the implication hang between them, ripe with all its possibilities, like a badly delivered insult.

Which, he supposed it almost was.

After all there was nothing simple in his observation, nothing innocent in his phrasing. It was a statement, covert yes, but a statement nonetheless . And a request. A request he couldn't bring himself to simply speak because that would necessitate the Admiral, explicitly, granting or denying it.

Too often a patients care revolved around the game of politics, their life dangling by the thread of your verbal and manipulative skills.

"I'll have a talk with the Lieutenant ," And there it was, the silent and necessary endorsement of what had once lain so heavily between Lee Adama and Kara Thrace; the slight and underhanded encouragement of its rebirth.," we're shorthanded as it is and she's not doing anybody any good sitting there day and night watching him breath. And he wouldn't expect this of her, wouldn't want it."

"No, he wouldn't.," Cottle agreed, understanding that they both knew perfectly well who, if not his wife, Apollo would expect, would want, such devotion from. ,"Will you make it an order?"

"If I have to."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Bill met his eyes, the weight of hard, unkind decisions plain, almost overwhelming in that gaze., "Anastasia Dualla doesn't strike me as the type to risk a visit the Hack."

No, she didn't, Cottle thought after the Admiral had gone.

Maybe that was part of the problem.

And maybe she never had a chance.

_Anastasia **Adama**_, he reminded himself, not for the first time. _Anastasia **Adama.**_

Then, _Kara **Anders**_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Yeah. Right. No ownership. No profit.

**In Hell's Despair**

_Tilted his head when she cast a vine-knotted brow at her rival._

_Saluted and stood abstractly off when somebody noticed._

_Her cheeks flashed like copper._

_He stared at her feet._

_Yet in front of the parents they managed to keep up appearances._

_- Sixty-ninth stanza of the Amarushataka_

She moved through the mess with that calm detachment Helo'd always associated with Anastasia Dualla, as if she were somehow apart from their world, as if nothing those around her did could touch her.

Then, sitting next to Sharon, Kara laughed.

The sound of it, brash and unapologetic, rose above the rhythmic hum of conversation, for one brief moment drowning out all other sounds.

But that was Kara. Always flaring off, blinding and burning those who got too close, simply outshining those who stood at a distance.

And, hearing it, Dee froze where she stood in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by people who pretended not to see.

His eyes narrowed at the sight as his mind slipped and stumbled and tried to define how it was that she could seem so very tangible in that moment when she never had before.

But she recovered herself with surprising speed, squaring her shoulders and pushing ahead as if still untouched and unaffected. Almost managing to resist sending Kara a furtive, damning look, he was probably the only one to notice.

It occurred to him as he passed by her, wanting to smile in earnest, wanting to care about this woman who stood both at the very heart and still somehow on the fringes of his world, that he'd doubtless seen worse defenses against the end of the worlds than a studied lack of involvement, but never another as ineffective.

&&&

Half a shift later Dee caught him watching her in CIC, where everyone was very much aware she had no desire to be, and flinched away before her mask slipped back into place.

Standing between the Colonel and the Admiral he could do nothing with what he'd seen, what he thought he saw, beyond filing it away for later examination.

Even so the thought danced through his mind that she'd give everything to stand in his place.

&&&

"She wants to be seen."

He gave Sharon a strange look as she sipped at what passed for tea in a severely depleted fleet of refuges, wondering as he always did how anyone could turn away from what they loved, whatever the price, voicing an unimpressive ,"Huh?"

She snickered at him, even as her look turned thoughtful," There are some people who don't blur into the scenery, who stand out in relief against everything else. Even when they're nowhere to be seen."

"Such as?," He was careful to use the same private, almost intimate tones as her, not wanting to be overheard by the few crew members who passed them in the corridor. Although, really, he doubted it would matter if they were. Recent events notwithstanding, Kara and Lee, Apollo and Starbuck, had always been a topic of speculation and were no less so now, whatever their marital status.

More so, maybe, because of it.

And the fact that the Admiral had ordered his daughter in-law away from his son's sickbed. Ordered her away and never said a word about Kara taking her place.

"You know," she made an expansive gesture with her free hand, breaking his line of thought and centering him once again on her presence., " The Admiral and the President.Lee and Kara.You."

He smiled, " You're biased."

She smiled back, everything about her going soft as it never did when she thought someone else might be looking and think less of her because of it., " Probably. But it's true. Some people are just like that, even people you don't really care for, like Baltar. "

"You're talking about charisma.," He thought in pictures and could almost envision what she was trying to explain, and, in trying, remembered seeing Dee in the mess. Remembered thinking that she stood forever on the edge of things, like something seen out of the corner of the eye, but never dead on. Whether she was standing halfway across the deck or right in front of you, it didn't matter. She was always somehow...lost in the shadows cast by those around her.

"Maybe, I guess. I don't know what it is, but it's there all the same. And..."

"And she doesn't have it.," he finished.

"No, but she surrounds herself, tries to belong with, those who do.," She sighed then, gave a wry, twisting smile not altogether kind or heavy on sympathy., " She tries so hard to be what she's not. To fit in where she never will."

Something less than shocked by her cold observation, it was just a part of her to be that way sometimes, dissecting what she saw in those around her with an almost clinical reserve, he shot her a look., "You could try adding just a little bit of compassion to your voice. "

She was exasperated, he could see it in the way she didn't roll her eyes at him, " Karl, tell me something, do you _like_ Dee?"

As they'd come to a stop beside the hatch leading to CIC, and he could see the topic of their conversation bent faithfully over her consul, he resisted the urge to glace over his shoulder, or to either side, feeling as guilty as if they were committing some illicit, unclean act, rather than holding a simple conversation., "Of course."

"Is she your friend?"

Opening his mouth to answer Helo hesitated, shrugged one shoulder almost negligently.," Sure."

"Like Lee's your friend? Or Galen? Or Kara is?," she persisted," When you have a spare moment you seek her out? Talk? Waste time together?"

He looked away, because they both knew that he didn't, that none of them did.

"I'm not trying to be cruel, I'm just saying what we both know to be true. She wants so badly to be in the center, to be looked at, looked up to, the way the rest of you are. But she just doesn't _fit_ ."

"You can say that, and not feel bad about it?"

"We were at the dance, and so was she. Were you surprised by what you saw at the end?"

Two people stubborn, angry, divided. Two bodies spent, leaning into one another, wrapped around one another in what was no longer an act of aggression , could never be mistaken for such. An attack becoming an embrace, something so private, so intimate that even the most voyeuristic of the spectators had left, ashamed to be caught witnessing something that could make their heroes human, make them vulnerable.

Two souls, one thought, _I missed you_, spoken through broken, bloodied lips.

Two hearts, one beat.

Two pieces of the same puzzle, their frayed, jagged edges clicking silently, perfectly into place until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

A perfect fit.

"No. No I wasn't."

Her smile was gentler now, kinder and he supposed that was because it was for him and not for Dee.," She's not your friend, but you respect her, I know that. Do you really think she was surprised where you weren't?"

Sometimes when he looked at her he remembered the bitter taste of betrayal, of disgust, with himself, with her; remembered what she was and how much that had once meant to him. Remembered _what _that had once meant to him., "People see what they want to see, and believe it, because it's easier than facing the truth."

"And hurt themselves all the more when the truth comes out., " She took his hand and he forgot what it had been to be betrayed, to feel his soul shred under the weight of the shock, the grief.," She chose this path, and now she has to walk it. Just like everybody else."

&&&

The next time he saw Dee it was late, the end of the shift, and he'd made his way to the infirmary to sit with Lee for a bit. Doc Cottle had told him about the increased brain activity, encouraged him to stop by, talk with his insensate friend.

He would have done it anyway.

Just like everybody else seemed to.

It was strange to step inside the hatch and find the President and the Admiral, already there. The latter taking the chair beside the bed, the former standing behind him, her hand resting companionably on his shoulder.

As Kara sat motionless in the corner, but for the litany of quiet, fervent prayers spilling from her lips.

As Dee stood silent and stoic in the opposite corner, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

The President turned as he entered, then hesitated, unsure of intruding here, unsure of treading where so many unsaid things hung so heavily in the air.

She smiled, gently, the tolerant, understanding smile she reserved for those she held closest to her heart, inviting him into what he'd unintentionally trespassed upon.

He nodded respectfully, took another step into the room. Pretended not to notice the women in their separate corners.

And watched them.

Even here Dee held herself apart, standing in her corner, as calm and composed as if they were in CIC and not hovering around her husband, hoping, praying, for him to open his eyes again. Her worry clung to her like a fine mist, almost tangible, proceeding her entrance into any room, lingering long after she left, filling her lonely corner like a fog.

She wore it, he thought, like a badge of ownership. So everyone could see it. Could see her right to it, to him.

Here again so very different from Kara.

Brash, reckless Kara, who disguised her concern beneath those finely crafted layers of temper and disregard she was so well known for. Kara, who walked around wound tight as a spring ready to snap, looking up whenever anyone came within her immediate sphere of influence, eyes bright and expectant, but quickly dimming when she saw no hope in their appearance.

She never mentioned her visits here but she came, he knew, every night and stayed well into her sleep-shift.

Something, some movement he was only half aware of, drew his attention back to Dee and her near defiant presence.

So he saw what he imagined she had no wish for anyone to see.

She was watching Kara, her brow furrowed in some emotion he couldn't name, couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't jealousy. Or anger. Or even hurt. It was just...there, indefinable, incomprehensible.

Then, without warning, her gaze shifted to him, pinned his own.

He looked away, shame at having seen something so private twisting inside him.

Then the Admiral rose, nodded to him in greeting, "Helo."

"Sir., " he returned, unconsciously coming to attention.

His commanding officer smiled, gently, at the sight, his hand resting on the back of the chair he'd abandoned.

Helo suddenly realized, without warning or preface, that he was holding his breath, that the air had suddenly thickened and he was waiting.

" Kara.," Bill Adama murmured, then caught her eye as she looked up from her clasped hands.

And indicated the chair with a jerk of his chin, telling her to take it.

His jaw wanted to drop, his eyes to widen in surprise and he controlled them with a ruthlessness no one would expect of him.

From her side of the room Dee stepped forward, a polite smile sitting almost comfortably on her face, "Sir, Madame President, I'll walk you back."

He looked for it, the clenched fist, the tight, unforgiving lines around the mouth, the eyes, and saw nothing she didn't want him to.

When they'd gone and Kara'd taken over the vigil, he stepped forward, laid his hand on her arm, undeterred by the sense of isolation that surrounded her.

"He'll be okay. You know that."

Her eyes were hollow when they met his, everything he'd always seen behind them shattered, broken, but for the vein of steel he'd never made the mistake of testing., "I know that."

Words of comfort came easily to him and they were there, backing up on his tongue, tangling together as he resisted the urge to say them. She so rarely accepted help, this woman too strong, too fragile, to give even so much as an inch.

Without thinking he bent down, brushed a kiss across the top of her hair., "I'll see you at morning CAPS."

Her lips twisted, not really a smile.

He left her there, alone, beside Lee, thinking that she'd never belonged anywhere else.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Abject apologies on the delay. And a quiet plea for a beta.

In Hell's Despair

_You provided love, you touched her intimately for a long time._

_Now in a fatal twist you've inflicted the most savage wound._

_Tender words can't assuage her unbearable jealousy._

_Our friend needs to cry now-_

_grief has unlocked her throat._

_- Seventh Stanza of the Amarushataka_

Chapter Three

Sitting by herself in so public a place as the pilots rec-room, especially in that place, was a statement.

It was a fact Dee was very much aware of as she sat herself down to watch the current game of Triad, smiling at those who offered greetings, careful to ignore the looks they then turned to share with those around them.

She wished, almost desperately, for a friendly face in this place which was so much more theirs than her own.

Wished Lee was there to shield and include her.

She wasn't comfortable, couldn't make herself so as she sat surrounded by men and women who would die at her husbands lead. Men and women who looked at her and weighed and judged and laid odds against things they had no right to touch. But this place belonged to Lee, even as these people were his to command, and it was important, when she couldn't be at his side, to be seen there. To smile and drink and reassure.

And it galled, that she should be the one to reassure these people who thought so little of her. People who accepted her because their CAG had left them little choice in the matter.

But that, she reminded herself as the crowd around the table shifted restlessly, was to be expected. The world of The Fighter Pilots had always been exclusive, inclusion in it granted by invitation only.

At the table Hotdog cursed, vicious words softened by a self-deprecating smile which left a sharp, almost painful impression of Starbuck lingering in her minds eye, and threw down his hand.

Because she was as much a focus of attention, if covertly so, as the game at hand she didn't sigh, didn't press the heels of her hands against her eyes in what would be a useless attempt to force the image out. She just relaxed further into her chair, offering the pilot a smile of honest commiseration.

After all, who better than her, in all the worlds, could know what it was to play a poor hand and lose the pot?

"You look tired.," Sam offered as he slid into the seat opposite her own, two empty glasses in his left hand and a bottle of Chief's Brew in the right.

Yes, of course.

"I suppose I am.," Somehow unsurprised by his appearance she watched him as she spoke, the words falling from her lips with a mechanical ease that had him tilting his head at her, his eyes narrowing., "Everybody is."

"Guess so.," he agreed, flashing a smile not unlike his familiar boyish grin as he filled each tumbler near to over flowering.

Not unlike, she thought as she accepted the glass he offered, but not quite the same. Not if you watched the eyes.

She sipped at the brew, considering the situation, the man, she now faced.

Samuel Anders, former Pyramid star, well known, well liked resistance fighter. Estranged husband of Kara Thrace, who even at that moment was no doubt sitting beside Lee's bed, murmuring her pious prayers and pleas to Gods who'd long since ceased to listen.

There was something ironic in that, in her sitting there with Kara's husband while Kara stood vigil beside her own. Ironic and bitterly hurtful.

Behind her someone, it sounded like Racetrack, won the game, claiming the pot with a wild whoop that made her flinch as it echoed off half remembered voices in her mind.

Was there nothing, no one, that woman had not touched and changed?

She could feel the crowd begin to break up as people moved forward to congratulate the winner, to mock the losers with their dull and friendly barbs, to splinter off into smaller pockets of conversation.

And she could feel, like a leaden weight, their attention shifting to herself and Sam.

There would be rumors now. Money, valuables, would change hands, new bets would be made and there was nothing to be done but to keep moving ahead without regard to the actions of others.

Indicating the bottle between them she tried for a lighthearted approach, something foreign to the both of them in that moment but necessary to the impression she was attempting to create with her presence. ,"I don't suppose we're celebrating anything?"

"You find something worth celebrating be sure to tell me."

What would it be like, she wondered, to wear your broken heart, in all its painful glory, on your sleeve as if it were nothing to be ashamed of? To put it on display like the moral of some badly written fable? How could he possibly stand to let others see that?

He downed a third of the alcohol in his glass then asked ,"How's Lee doing?"

Choosing to believe he was being polite and that his inquiry had nothing to do with the state of either of their marriages she ignored the hot jolt of something very close to outrage that coursed through her. Ignored how it was urging words, words which would only offend a relatively blameless man and feed the rumors she could feel like spiders dancing across her skin, to spill from her lips.

It said little for her state of mind that she could hear herself, hissing between clenched teeth, her voice almost sickly-sweet, as she asked him why he didn't just ask his wife, if he was at all concerned about her husband's well-being.

"No better," she murmured instead, blocking the image out, " But no worse."

Another gulping swallow and he reached for the bottled. , " You know I want to hate him. Lee, I mean."

Was that her imagination, or had she actually heard people's ears sharpening?

"Because I can't blame her. I can't.," his eyes burned as he focused on some inward vision, his voice was soft, desperate." If I blame her, then I have to face it, don't I? Have to face what we've all been pretending not to see. I _have_ to hate him."

This was messy and wrong and Dee desperately wanted nothing to do with it.

He had to hate Lee, but she didn't hate Kara. Practical to the bone she understood that you couldn't force someone to love you and that it was nobody's fault. _There isn't anybody to blame_, she wanted to tell him, knowing she never would. Not in this place where she could never belong, not now with the eager ears of the crew straining for every syllable, _Some people just make the wrong choice. That's all. _

"Kara's not a cuddler, you know?," Taken aback Dee took his words as rhetorical, realizing that Sam was already three sheets gone. That he had to be to say such things to her. Especially to her.," She takes what she wants and then she turns away. But she's not cold. She's just...distant. ,"Again the glass came to his lips and she watched another third of the liquid vanish., " Down on New Caprica, before I was sick and the Cylons showed up and everything went to shit, I'd wake up sometimes in the middle of the night. She wasn't always there, she doesn't sleep well, but when she was every once in awhile her head would be on my shoulder, or my chest. She'd be wrapped around me.," he sipped at the drink now, his eyes narrowed at whatever image he was seeing.," And she'd call me Lee. Then she'd burrow into me and smile. This perfect smile."

He drained the glass, focused on her once again.," She never smiled at me like that."

She felt her lips part in something like surprise as a sharp pain sliced through her. Here, at long last, was someone who understood what it was to be forever on the outside looking in on what you'd come to realize could never be your own. And it hurt, Gods how it hurt, to see her pain mirrored in this man who was nothing like her. Hurt to see what it had done to him. What it could do to her.

Squeezing her eyes tight against the biting tears she refused to shed, Dee took a shuddering breath, forced her eyes to his.," Lee does it too."

"Yeah," Sam shrugged one shoulder in an almost dismissive gesture that bellied the look in his eyes,"figured."

_But it's not their fault_ she thought again as he topped off her glass.

&&&

It was late, and though she knew she could've put this off until morning, perhaps should have, Dee found herself sitting on the Admiral's couch, watching as he settled himself beside her. He looked tired and a little disheveled in his dressing gown and not a little surprised to have found her on his doorstep, as it were.

Others, she knew, sought him out at all hours of the night. Sharon and Helo. Colonel Tigh. Kara. Yet she never had. Married to his son or no it had always seemed far too familiar a gesture to her and she'd never been as comfortable nor as close to him as those notables.

Not that there wasn't affection and genuine respect between them, because there was. On at least one notable occasion he'd sought her out and she's voiced the hard and unfavored truth no other would dare to speak. Even so, there was a line between them which she'd never felt the need to cross. Never felt quite welcome enough to cross.

Here again was an exclusive world, and here again she was the trespasser denied an invitation.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such an hour, Sir., "And she was. More than she could possibly express. Yet what this man thought of her mattered; she'd be sincere enough when she told Lee she'd married him because she'd seen something of the father in the son. ," I know it's late."

He waved her words away," I don't sleep much anyway."

No, she didn't suppose he did.

She hesitated then, unsure of how to start, unsure of how to say what she didn't want to.

It would be easy to begin with the maiden flight of the Laura, which Starbuck had flown with Apollo as her wing, to explain how she'd listened to Lee's voice go from annoyed to angry when she disappeared and then to panic and terror when she'd ignored his hails. And there'd been that last comment, that heartbreakingly pain filled _' Are you okay?'_

It would be easy to start there because it was in the few seconds between that comment and Kara's arrogantly laughing response that she'd first thought of how much Lee Adama really did love Kara Thrace and probably always would. The first time she'd thought of how little his life would mean to him without her in it.

Unbidden she thought of how he'd fallen apart during the entire New Caprica fiasco, how he'd sunken within himself and lost that vital _something_ that made him who he was. He'd been so damn bitter, quietly, subtly to be sure, but the bitterness had been there just the same, obvious to those who were close to him.

He'd been lost and no one, no one, had known how to find him.

And then the Cylons had come, and they'd evacuated the planet, Kara Thrace being amongst the survivors, and sooner than any of those who'd stayed on the Galactica and the Pegasus and watched him fall into his own personal abyss would have _ever_ believed he'd come back to himself. She often thought it was like she'd gone to bed with one man, the man she'd spent her entire married life with, and then, one day, woken up with the man she'd _thought_ she'd married all those months before.

And seeing that, knowing that he'd come alive for Kara Thrace when he'd only been going through the motions for her, her heart had snapped. into dozens of tiny, viciously edged little shards.

She was in love with a man, married to a man, who could never return what she'd so recklessly given him, believing, in her so human arrogance, that time and familiarity would make him hers.

She looked at his father, at the man who had somehow become _everyone's_ father.

"I can't do it anymore.," she whispered, despising the sob even she could hear just behind the words.," I shouldn't have to."

Because he'd always liked Dee and could smack Lee and Kara for what they'd done to her, to each other , the Admiral met her gaze, deferring to her pride as he ignored the wet sheen of the tears gathering there, "No, you shouldn't."

"I wanted to tell you first.," she said, then, without ceremony or hysterics, began to quietly, almost silently, cry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**Nope, sorry.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews! Especially those concerning my portrayal of Dee. I'm not too fond of her myself, so I'm glad to hear I succeeded in rendering her character in such a way as to make her more sympathetic.

**In Hell's Despair**

**By Theiry**

_You ignored_

_the turning seasons of love,_

_shook off counsel,_

_and treated your _

_lover with a cold disregard._

_The coals of betrayal flare in your_

_own bare hands._

_The planet is burning._

_And now this intractable rage-_

_like a wild_

_wounded animal's._

**- Eighty-fourth stanza of the Amarushataka**

**Chapter Four**

It was well into her sleep-shift when she entered Lee's room to find it empty but for his unmoving form.

If she'd expected Dee to be there, and she always did, the woman's absence didn't phase her. Three weeks had come and gone since she'd last met Lee's wife in this place and it was nothing but paranoia that made her shoulders tight and her gut tense in anticipation of conflict whenever she came here. The Lt. was reliable, conscientious even, in that she made her visits in the morning, always in the morning, leaving the nights open to her rival.

It was a small gesture Kara hated to acknowledge, didn't know how to acknowledge, yet a gesture of which she was nonetheless grateful. Though some part of her chafed that Dee should have any claim to be here at all. That Dee, in fact, had far more right to these quiet solitary hours here than she did.

Her fault, she thought. Always her fault.

Nothing had changed from the night before and she couldn't say that she'd imagined the sound of her steps echoing hollowly back to her in that damnably empty space as she moved to his side.

_He's not here_, she thought standing over him, the presence of his absence suffocating her., _He's still not here._

Her eyes traced the familiar lines of his face and she tried to breath past the weight that had been pressing down on her chest for so long now, tried to think past the aching loneliness she always felt without him.

She hated this place, this room, where one by one they came to sit by Lee's side like pious supplicants to some lost God petitioning him to return to them with their awkward mix of quiet prayers and ribald humor.

Nobody just yelled at him, she thought as she stood beside the bed, her gaze slowly ranging along the length of his prone form. Nobody just cursed and screamed at him and told him to knock it the frak off.

Probably because she was the only one who really wanted too.

She'd come here, despite her dislike of the place, despite the helplessness that twisted her guts into knots, every night for three and a half weeks. She'd come and she'd sat at his side and she'd prayed and she'd talked to him, holding one way conversations that still felt more natural than the conversations she had with the other crew members. She'd explained and cajoled and apologized and said I love you with a desperation and frequency that amazed. They were not words that came easily to her, not with him or anybody else, and sitting beside him, night after night, they'd poured from her lips in a torrent.

All of it, all of it, for nothing.

And now she didn't have anymore words, they'd dried up on her because really, what was left to say?

Well, she supposed, you could always fall back on the basics.

"You're an idiot Lee Adama. A twisted, emotionally frakked idiot, with no apparent concern for anybody but yourself !"

There was still no response, but it made her feel better, relieved some of that unbearable pressure weighing on her chest and she continued almost without realizing it.," Three and a half weeks of this_Major_. Three of those I've spent fielding dirty looks because the old man stepped in and ordered your wife to work so I could sit in her place. _Three weeks_," the words hissed through her clenched teeth as she leaned over him, close enough for their breath to mingle., "of sitting here in this tomb spilling my bleeding heart out to the empty air while you lay there on your ass and breath."

Nothing. Still nothing.

But she was mad now, good and mad, and that was okay because if she let it get big enough it might just smother all that fear lurking right behind it.

"There is nothing, _nothing _wrong with you and I'm getting a little played out on this game.," she shoved away from the bed then, kicking the chair they always kept beside him across the room as she went.," What the Hell do you think you're playing at anyway? You think lying there, pretending to die, is gonna change anything? You think I'm gonna sit here and make promises I have no intention of keeping just so you'll wake up?," She was afraid, terribly afraid that if she just said the words, the ones he wanted so much more than her I love you's this would be over. That he'd open his eyes and there'd be no more waiting through the night. No more suffocating under the burden of his absence.

And she couldn't say them.

She'd said other words, made promises before the Gods that couldn't be forgotten or erased.

She was trapped. Trapped by her stupidity and her pride. Trapped by her fear. And Lee was lost to her. He'd moved so far beyond her reach that he might as well have died. There was nothing of him in this room.

"Damn it Lee. Damn it.," she snarled, dragging her fingers through her short hair, scouring her scalp with nails that had grown too long for convenience or practicality .," I'm can't lose you."

Her voice broke then and with a snarl she whirled, slamming her fist into the bulkhead just above his head.

Then she stood there, panting, barely registering the pain in her hand which would later prove to be broken.

" I can't lose you.," she repeated.," I can't."

&&&

Gaeta grunted when he hit the mat, the breath forced from his lungs by the strength of the impact.

Watching him lay there on his back, trying to catch his breath and get up as Starbuck stood over him sneering and radiating menace, Sharon was careful to keep her face tightly composed in a serene and unreadable mask.

Starbuck was worse...but no, that wasn't right. Starbuck was a wild and unfettered Fighter Pilot whose personal relationship with discipline was nodding at best; a complicated and talented soul who, while confrontational to the extreme, was never cruel. Starbuck was not, could never be, a bully.

She was looking at Kara, stripped down to the last vestiges of herself, toeing the very fine and frayed line of total breakdown. She'd come close to that line after returning from New Caprica, when the wounds of her captivity had still been fresh and bleeding, but though she'd danced along that edge she'd still been able to pull herself back.

That would never happen now., Sharon realized. Not with Lee lying in that bed and no one sure if he was ever getting out of it.

And Kara, wonderful, reckless, fragile Kara even less sure than anyone else.

Geata gained his feet, wincing as he straightened his shoulders and moved into the stance Kara had instructed him to use before shattering his defenses and probably bruising his ribs. His expression was grim as he nodded at his instructor, indicating his willingness to continue his lesson.

Pride, she thought, will be the downfall of us all.

Then, without stopping to think about what she was doing Sharon strode on to the mat, inserting herself with a casual authority between the combatants.

Kara eyed her with a dismissive contempt which was meant to insult and enrage and accomplished neither of those goals.

"This lesson's not over yet.," There was a light in the other woman's eyes as she said it, something that bespoke the need for battle, for blood, and a challenge yet to be found.

"Yes it is.," she replied, her voice calm, even, giving no evidence of the storm quietly seething beneath her relatively tranquil exterior., "Gaeta," she poke over her shoulder, not quite daring to take her eyes away from Kara.," Move away."

Wisely he did so, without a word of question or protest, and Sharon was only a little surprised that he left the room altogether instead of taking up a position at the edge of the mat.

"You overstep yourself."

Sharon shoved her, hard and quick, not bothering to pull the move, and Kara stumbled back a look of shock and quickly developing rage moving across her features.

"A lesson is intended to _teach_, not to bully and bruise.," she bit off every word, watching Kara as she gathered herself for the attack, unfortunately aware of the audience gathered at the edge of the mat.," But if you want a _fight _Kara, I'm standing right here."

Without a sound the fighter pilot moved into the attack, and Sharon was only surprised she'd managed to hold herself back as long as she had.

Kara was a ruthless and instinctive brawler, those instincts all the sharper for the diamond edge of her military training; her blows, even when rage pumped through her veins and darkened her vision, were never wild and rarely missed what she'd aimed for.

And Sharon knew this, had seen it often enough to understand that you could never predict the woman's moves, never anticipate what form her attack would take.

She didn't intend to try.

It would be a mistake that would have her on her ass in less than five and which would probably end with their acting CAG spending all her free time in the brig.

_Reaction._The speed and strength inherent in her design gave her just enough of an edge in her reaction time that Kara always managed to swing where she _had_ been . Then, as her frustration began to have a visible effect on her movements, Sharon almost casually brushed aside the casted arm Kara intended to bludgeon her with, then caught the other fist on the upswing. In a move those watching would describe as weirdly graceful she twisted that arm behind her fellow Pilot's back , and, in a complicated move no one else on the Galactica could've pulled off, flipped her backwards on to the floor.

Predictably she tried to rise and Sharon shoved her back down with her booted foot, holding her there.

Her gaze snapped to the spectators, of which there were more than there had been and who clearly couldn't decide whether or not they wanted to be there just then.

"Scatter!," she snapped and they jumped and hurried away, not even muttering amongst themselves.

That would come later, she knew, when neither she nor Kara were close enough to overhear.

On the floor Kara was trying to shove her foot away, and failing miserably as she snarled curses and hurled derogatory comments at her.

Sure that the room was there's, Sharon lifted her foot.

With a speed she never would have credited Kara moved to sweep her legs out from under her, screaming with unarticulated rage as she danced out of her reach, then let her momentum carry her to her feet and into a quick and brutal flurry of blows.

Sharon ignored those that landed, stepped inside of Kara's guard and swung.

Once, twice, to the solar plexus.

A harsh, and she hoped, insulting backhand to the face.

Then she swept Kara's legs out from under her, taking no satisfaction as the woman gasped back the wind she'd lost.

As Kara's breathing eased she knelt down beside her, contented with the small trickle of blood at her lip and the simple fact that she stayed down.

"Sometimes, I think of how much simpler, how much easier, everything would be if I were only a Cylon..," she commented, almost absently, though the statement was as deliberate as anything she had ever done.

The words, spoken in what was almost a whisper, fixed Kara's attention as almost nothing else could have done. She caught the look of startlement and disbelief that passed across her face, read the questions there and sighed as she continued.," All this shit between people is so confused, so disorganized that it's a wonder anything ever comes out right."

She thought of Dee then, and what she'd thought of her yesterday and didn't today, thought of the fierce pride which she now bore for the woman who'd exceed her every expectation.

And focused on the woman before her. The woman who never met anyone's expectations and often exceeded them. Strange, that of the two Dee should, at the last, prove the stronger of the two in this, in anything. And she _had_ done just that; it took the rarest of strengths to not only face your mistakes but, having done that, move to correct them.

Whatever the cost to herself.

" It's not Gaetea's fault that Lee's lying in that bed Kara. It's not anyone's fault but Lee's.," Not against her expectations the woman moved to get up, and she shoved her back to the mat with enough force to bruise., "You can't fix this by beating the pulp out of everyone you come into contact with anymore than Lee could fix what Leoben did to you on New Caprica by using the probe virus to wipe out every Cylon in existence."

Panting Kara glared at her, her tongue tasting the blood at her lip.," You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not. After all, I wouldn't know anything about wanting what you're not supposed to."

She waited for a reply, something sharp and dismissive; something meant to cut, but Kara lay there, searching her face and said nothing.

Almost conversationally Sharon offered, " It wasn't easy, you know, standing against the world. "

"It's kinda fun actually.," Kara smiled when she said it, apparently oblivious to the cut in her lip.

"When it doesn't matter.,"she agreed, then thought _And when it does it's terrifying_.," We both had choices to make Kara. I made the right one."

She didn't need to say the rest, to actually give voice to the fact that Kara had knowingly, deliberately, made a choice that had shattered the lives of no less than four people, her own included. ," It would have been easier if I had made the wrong one. I wouldn't have had to spend all those months in a cell and almost been raped. Or face the ridicule and oh so clever remarks of everyone around me. And no one would ever have told me my child was dead. But it would still have been the wrong choice."

"I made vows...," Kara started, her voice defiant, her eyes sad, haunted.

"Which were untrue even as they fell from your lips!," she snapped, understanding Kara well enough to know that she often dealt better with confrontation than empathy.," What would make you think your Gods wouldn't know that Kara? Wouldn't know that you lied to them as easily as you lied to yourself and reject those vows? Why would they want lies, from you or anyone else?"

Here eyes widened, her breath came in ragged, harsh gasps, and Sharon wondered if she'd pushed to hard even as she prepared to push even harder.

"Lee might wake up and he might not.," Kara flinched at her words and she ignored her," If he doesn't you'll live without him, just like you would have on New Caprica. But what if he wakes up Kara? What then?," Kara closed her eyes then and she reached out and slapped her, almost a love tap compared to the blow she'd delivered only moments ago, and her eyes snapped open again.," Dee's divorcing Lee, you've left Sam and can't expect him to wait forever for you to change your mind."

"Sam loves me."

"Love withers and dies when abused and ignored."

"I love him."

With a heavy dose of disbelief she arched an eyebrow.," You love him. ," Kara nodded, though she hadn't made it a question.," You don't get to have both Kara. It doesn't work that way. And if you don't make a choice, once and for all, you won't have a choice _to_make. You can't expect them to wait forever. To _share you_ between them like some kind of favored plaything. So, the question remains; if, _if_ Lee wakes up, what then?"

&&&

Later that night Kara sat at Lee's side, Sharon's words echoing through her mind.

_What if Lee wakes up?_, she'd said, _What then?_

For the first time since the night she'd lain beside Zak, unable to sleep for the knowledge that she was very much in love with his too perfect brother, she didn't know.

Even if he lived she could lose him, would lose him, if she chose Sam. Too much had passed between them even for their friendship to survive, nothing would remain for them but silence and duty.

What would she do?

Gods, what would she do?

Overwhelmed, she lay her head against the side of his bed and wept for all that was lost, for all that would be lost.


End file.
